Fifteen
by Maximum Writers
Summary: When Dr. Martinez finds out Max is turning fifteen, Max finds herself in a whirlwind of traditions, family and dresses. She’s having a quinceañera! Though it seems 'fun' at first, cousins, grandmas and best friends make it a whole lot more stressful. FAX.
1. Chapter 1 : The Deal

**Hey guys! Here's my new story!  
It's taken _a long time_, but I've finally came up with a plot. Enjoy it!**

**NOTE: **In this story, Max says '_quince-rera_', meaning '_quinceañera_'. I know it's going to bug a bunch of you out there, so I apologize in advance. Throughout the whole story she's probably going to say it like that. Hope you like it anyway!

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**Fifteen  
_Chapter One : The Deal_ **

_I look like a giant, yellow duck. _I thought to myself, looking at my reflection. _All I need is an orange beak and I could go take a bath in the lake out front_.

So there I was. In a department store that smelled of old people, snotty rich too-good-for-you men and women, and cashiers squirting fragrance in your face. I was crammed in a two-by-two dressing room, Ella and Dr. Martinez surrounding me with goofy smiling faces. And I was staring at myself in the mirror, surrounded by a huge yellow, scratchy, over-expensive dress that looked like it belonged to some girly princess. Who felt like dressing up as Big Bird from Sesame Street.

_Please don't let me look like this_, I pleaded. _Let me just be dreaming._

"You look _gorgeous_." Ella gushed, and I gave her a sour look.

"You do, Max." Mom said to me, placing her warm hand on my exposed shoulder.

I sighed. How was I suppose to tell her that I didn't want to do this? How do I tell her I didn't want a _quince-rera_, or whatever it's called? Why does she have to be so _nice_?

"Um, thanks." I mumbled, turning away from the mirror. "Maybe we should try something more... _lighter_? The yellow isn't, erm, my thing."

Ella nodded, and hobbled herself and her crutches out of the dressing room, Dr. Martinez only steps behind. I inwardly groaned, beginning to unclip the massive straps off of me and slide the dress down to my ankles. This wasn't suppose to happen. All was came down for was a check-in. Ella's birthday was in a four weeks, and we thought we could wish her an extra-early happy birthday. We being the Flock and I, obviously.

To our surprise, Ella was in crutches and hobbling around, complaining about her muscle that she tore playing soccer. Because she tore something extremely important, she would be missing her birthday party that was being held at a hotel twenty minutes away. It wasn't a close party either, it was in a month. She had rented a ball room and everything, because it was a combination of her confirmation, birthday, and her soccer championship that her team had won. A week before, when they were celebrating as a team and fooling around with the soccer ball, Ella tore that muscle of hers.

Mom was stressed out, talking on the phone with the hotel manager and trying to get back as much money as she could, but the deposit was non-refundable.

And then she found out my birthday was in two weeks.

Hey, I didn't even know I had a birthday! All it took was Mom walking by the calendar near the kitchen, a quick look, and a gasp. Ta-Da! My birthday's in August. Making Fang's in... December? And Iggy's sometime in Feburary?

Mom wasn't as excited as I was, because she pulled me aside and apologized fifty-million times, saying she couldn't believe I was turning fifteen already. Then she broke the news: I should to have a _quince-rera_. Or something like that. She said it would be perfect. She'd have it at the hotel that she already had the deposit for. She wouldn't waste all that money! Then she left to make some calls.

Because I had no clue what a _quince-rera_ was, I asked Nudge to Google it for me. And guess what it is. A big party. With lots of dresses. And dancing. And people. And traditions._ So not my thing._

Just as I was going to break the news to Dr. M, tell her I wasn't up for it, the oh-so logical Mr. Fang came up and stopped me. He offered me a bet. If I do this_ quince-rera_ thing, make Dr. Martinez happy and don't let her money go to waste, yadda, yadda, yadda, then he wouldn't tell the Flock about the time I was getting my chip out, when I was on Valium. (Yeah, they still don't know about that.)

So that means I have to go along with it, be nice, play fair. Just so I won't be mocked for the rest of my short bird-kid life.

See my dilemma?

"Max, are you almost out?" I heard Ella call. "I found a cool lavender dress!"

After a reply of '_I'm definitely not wearing purple_!', Ella went back out again in search of another one. I sighed, having second thoughts about this.

Knowing me and my grace, I'll probably ruin this thing from beginning to end. I'll rip my dress, spill my drink, mess up when it comes to impressions with the relatives. I'll embarrass Ella in front of her friends so bad she'll have to move to another country to get away from the laughter. The buffet will be a huge slip 'n' slide. Gazzy will test his new bomb, and light the place on fire. Iggy will try cooking with the chefs and screw up the cooking times, and we'd all get food poisoning. Angel will mind control all the cousins to do the chicken dance. Nudge will talk until we're all deaf! This thing's going to be a _disaster_!

I know, I know. I'll shut up. It's not like it hasn't happened before.

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We got home at ten o'clock.

Fang was waiting, sitting on the sofa scrolling through the channels. The thing is that it usually takes girls weeks and months to find their dresses. It took me a day, mostly because we didn't have _weeks and months_. The party was in four weeks. It's unrealistic, but Dr. Martinez already had all the relatives coming down for Ella's confirmation, and she didn't cancel the caterer, so there would be plenty of food. The cake could be fixed: she just called and had the name changed from "Happy Birthday Ella!" to "Happy Birthday Max!".

It was the dance lessons that would be the problem. And the decorations. And all the tradition things that I had no clue about. Overwhelmed, I sat down beside Fang, completely exhausted.

"Grandma's coming down tomorrow," Dr. Martinez confirmed, and I felt an uneasy feeling settle in the bottom of my stomach. Was it time for the relatives to come down already? Fang saw my expression and shot me a '_Don't back out now_' stare. I sunk farther down into the sofa.

"Ugh, I'm going to bed," Ella said, sounding tired. Quickly I agreed with her, tapping fists with Fang and heading down to Ella's room.

Her room was the last door on the left in the Martinez's hallway, and it had a purple theme. Her pillows were lavender and her bedspread was deep violet. I watched as Ella pulled out a small single air mattress from underneath the bed and plugged in the pump, and pressed the power button. The bed began to fill with air and expand, while the deafening sound of it filling my ears. When she was finished, I knew I had to ask her something.

"Why are you so excited that I'm having a _quince-rera_?" I asked her, lowering myself onto her bed as she got sheets out of her closet and spread them on the mattress.

"It's _quinceañera_ Max." She corrected, holding back a smile. "And I'm happy because Mom's money isn't going to waste. I felt horrible."

I gave her look, and told her that there had to be more to the story.

"Alright. Well, Mom's always been real serious about me having a quinceañera, and I always knew that I'd never enjoy it. That's why I wanted such a big party. I thought : Hey, if she spends this much money on me for my fourteenth birthday, she won't go with the whole quinceañera thing." She sighed, finishing with the sheets and grabbed a blanket from a cabinet in her closet. "Then when I tore my muscle, I knew that I'd have to have a quinceañera next year. Then you were turning fifteen and everything fell into place."

She looked up at me with her brown eyes, and I immediately thought of Dr. Martinez. She was so giving and sweet, and always wanted the best for Ella and me. I knew why Ella couldn't tell her Mom that she didn't want a quinceañera. If she did, it would break Dr. Martinez's heart.

"If you have your quinceañera, then when I turn fifteen Mom won't be so broken when I tell her I don't want one." She said finally, grabbing her nightgown from her dresser. "I know it's wrong. But being a princess, all the dancing, all the effort... It's not my thing."

"Well, it's certainly not my thing either!" I exclaimed, and Ella laughed. I gave my half sister a small smile, pulling out a ratty t-shirt and athletic shorts from my backpack. I changed, brushed my teeth and was in bed within ten minutes. Ella was finishing her shower, the tiny yellow light visible under the door. The lights in her room were off, leaving me and the sounds of running water coming from the bathroom.

I laid on the air bed, listening. I couldn't sleep.

The things running through my mind :

1) My grandma was coming down tomorrow, a woman who I have never met before, and hopefully isn't a total _witch_.

2) Me and Fang's deal.

3) Ella's whole guilt speech. Now I _definitely_ couldn't back out of this _quince-rera_ thing.

4) I had to wear a dress. I mean, _come on_!

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**So, did you like it?  
Tell me what you think! **

**Review, please!**


	2. Chapter 2 : Grandma

**Hey guys, I'm back! With another chapter! Yay!  
And I'm embarrassed to admit my mistake with calling Ella Max's _step sister_. How crazy can I be?! Anyway, I fixed it. Because that's me, Miss Perfectionist. :)**

**And GUYS! I got like 15 to 20 story alerts, but only ten reviews? Come on, give me some feedback! And if you don't have a fanfiction account, don't worry. You don't need one to review! So please _please please_ just write me something to show you enjoyed it. It makes my day so much brighter!**

**Alright, I'm done nagging. Let's get on with it.**

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_Fifteen  
Chapter Two : Grandma_

I woke up to this _wonderful_ Saturday at six in the morning, pitch black outside Ella's window, to see my grandmother leaning over me. All four feet and nine inches of her, staring directly into my eyes. And, if you were wondering, _no_, she doesn't resemble me. Her hair was cut extremely short (some of you would compare it to a young boy), it was red-brown and seemed to be somewhat-neat on her round little head. Her eyes were brown, but they were deep and thick. Like mud. Her skin was very tan, wrinkling in the face. And if you looked close enough, you could measure about three centimeters of _flab _hanging from her elbows. _Yuck_.

She gave me a critical glance, while I contemplated whether punching her in the jaw would count as a penalty against the Deal. The Deal being the agreement Fang and I had come up with, which made me do this stupid _quince-rera_ in the first place.

"We have to plan the important details today." _Grandma_ said to me, stepping around the air mattress and pulling on my blankets. "There is so much to do! You must pick your Court of Honor, your the dresses for your Court, decide on the dances, pick your invitees, oh my! So much!" She then proceeded to muttering bunch of phrases in Spanish, which I ignored.

"You're ridiculous." I said to her with a straight face, slowly getting up. "No one is awake at this hour."

I turned to Ella, who was still dead asleep, even when her light was turned on and Grandma was talking.

"Ah, there's that nasty tone," Grandma said in a disapproving voice. Hey, what can I say? I'm not a morning person. "We must work on that. You cannot speak to your guests in that way, _nieta_."

"Niet-_who_?" I asked, not understanding her Spanish.

She ignored me, too busy planning my own _quince-rera_ to notice.

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"So who do you want to be in your Court of Honor, Max?" Mom asked me across the table. Each of us had a lined notepad, where we were suppose to be writing down notes, suggestions, and to-do lists. Grandma was jotting things down with an ink pen every few seconds, asking a few questions here and there, directing things, telling Dr. Martinez what to accomplish, blah, blah, blah.

The Flock was out flying, Ella was at her friend's house, and I was stuck _here_. Awesome.

"Um, what's my _Court of Honor_?" I asked, feeling out of the loop. Grandma gave me an expression of disbelief, while Mom had a slight look of exasperation.

"Ay, Valencia! Does this girl know anything about a quinceañera?!" Exclaimed grandma, slamming down her notepad and pen. When neither of us responded, she sighed and began to explain it to me. "You are hispanic. You know that, right? Well, good. Now, some people that you may know have Sweet Sixteens or something like that, but we have quinceañeras. It is the celebration of when a girl turns fifteen." She paused, hoping I was comprehending what she was saying.

"Some people compare it to a wedding because the Court of Honor is kind of like your bridesmaids, except they have dates. They are your very close friends and relatives, like cousins." Ripping off a piece of lined paper from her notepad, she pointed to a list of people she had written down. "Typically we would have fourteen couples - fourteen boys and girls. But we are only having seven." I looked down at the long list of people that she had wrote. There were a lot.

"Now, you will chose your Court." She said, smiling. She was finally done explaining. _Thank God_. I took my pencil and began to scrawl the names of who I wanted to be in my Court.

_Fang, Iggy, Nudge, Angel, the Gasman..._

I realized I was finished and only had six people (including me, of course), which only made three couples. I needed seven, making a total of fourteen. This could be a problem.

"Use some of the names from the list," Mom said to me, reading my troubled expression. "They are your cousins, around your age." She took the list from me and pointed a few names out by circling them in red pen.

_Fernando_, _Alesandra_, _Elizabeth, David, Gabriella, Steven, Michelle and Roberto_ were underlined courtesy of Mom. There had to be at least ten other cousins listed, meaning I must have a big family. I nodded, giving my approval to Mom about the people she had chosen. It wasn't like I could tell who someone was by looking at their names, so it really didn't matter. I'll trust her judgement.

"Now to pick your escort," Grandma said joyfully, circling a name and pointing to it. "This will be your date for the evening. I think you'll like the boy I pick for you."

I looked at Mom, wondering if the a grandmother picking your escort was some sort of fancy traditional thing. She just stared at me, shrugging her shoulders. She didn't know if it was either. I decided I wouldn't argue, instead just hope Grandma had some common sense and would pick Fang.

But when the notepad was passed back to me, the name 'Roberto' was circled in bright pen.

"He's coming tomorrow," Grandma said gleefully. "You're going to _love_ him."

My heart sank just like the freaking Titanic.

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**Did you like it? Hate it? Love it?  
REVIEW!**

**The story's going pretty fast right now, but don't worry. Once all the cousins come into the picture, it'll slow down. If you have any questions, just review! And if you're wondering what Max's dress looks like, it'll be described in the next chapter! (I'm posting a picture as well.)**

**(Did I say to review already? Oh, yeah. I did. But REVIEW! Thanks!)**


	3. Chapter 3 : The Fitting

_Fifteen  
Chapter Three : The Fitting _

I was getting my dress fitted. The boutique lady Mom had called decided to come at three in the afternoon, her van full of dresses for my Court, plus pins, needles and sewing supplies. I honestly wouldn't have minded, except dress fitting meant I had to put on the dress and stand on a stool in the middle of the living room. While boutique lady (also known as Miss Jerry) poked me with pins to hold the it in place.

"So you're having a quinceañera!" She exclaimed. Only she had pins stuck between her teeth, so it sounded like "_You're hafing a quiv-fey-ner-fa!_"

"Yes, I'm having one of... those." I replied warily, watching as she stuck another pin into the dress. It nicked me and I inwardly winced, not enjoying this. Her short and stubby body was standing on a wooden stool, so she could reach better. The little blonde bob of hair that covered her head was slicked back with bobby pins. Her mouth never seemed to stop moving.

As Boutique lady, I mean _Miss Jerry_, babbled, Mom took the long mirror from her room and rolled it out in front of me. It was one of those old fashioned wooden, oval mirrors. As Boutique lady finished with the last pin, Mom invited her to get a fresh cup of coffee from the just-brewed pot in the kitchen. I knew she only did it to give me some time to myself.

Sighing self-consciously, I _really_ looked at myself in the mirror. Not just small glances or stares of humiliation. I was seriously going to picture how I would look on the day of my _quince-rera_ to all my guests. So here I stood, surrounded by a simple, white, strapless dress. The back was open, but somehow Boutique lady found a reject dress that had went up to my shoulder blades. Easily my wings were covered, crisis averted. The top of the dress was covered with glittery lines that resembled broken tree brances that broke apart towards the bottom. It wasn't overly poofy, but I still looked like one of those Disney World princesses.

"You look like you're getting married or something." Fang said to me, appearing out of nowhere. I jumped back a bit, almost falling off the stool. Then recovered with a hard glare in his direction.

"Blending with your shadow friends again?" I replied sarcastically.

"Ha. Funny." He said dryly. "Just making sure our deal is still standing."

So now he was _challenging _me. Everyone knew Max didn't back down from a challenge. Which was probably why he found me in the first place.

"Oh, it's still on." I confirmed, getting off the stool. There was no way I was backing out, not if I wanted to be drastically humiliated. "We'll see who wants to wiggle his way out when _you_ have to wear a tux." I watched triumphantly as he cast his eyes downward and make an excuse to go back to whatever he should be doing. I won this round.

"Hey! Max!" Nudge screeched. Her small body sprinted to me, causing Miss Jerry (who just happened to be exiting the kitchen) to spill all the hot coffee on her stiff white blouse. Muttering a quick apology, Nudge started talking full speed. "We found the Court of Honor's dresses for you! They're really pretty. Lavender is going to be your theme, okay? It's really good, believe me. The dresses are purple, but a light kind. There's a little fake diamond pendant in the middle and some fabric covers the top, oh Max it's so, so, _so_ pretty!"

"Um, okay." I said, agreeing just for the heck of it. "Pick whatever you want, you're wearing it."

I don't think I've ever seen her happier in her life.

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"But I want to wear _blue_." I heard Angel say from the inside of the house. Ever since she saw the dress Nudge had picked out, it was nonstop whining. To come to think of it, Angel was being bossier, stubborn and more uncooperative with each passing day. Which was another problem added to my never-ending stress list.

"Wonder where she got her persistence from?" Fang asked me, and a gave him an elbow to the ribs.

"I'm serious! She's been pouting for an _hour_." I pointed out, pulling some lawn chairs from the overgrown backyard. It was late afternoon, maybe six-thirty. The sun was starting to fall down to begin the sunset, making it level with my eyes and sweat pop up on the back of my neck. It was probably one of the second-hottest times of the day, besides noon.

"Maybe she just wants to wear blue." Fang explained bluntly, pulling a broken skateboard from behind the Martinez's bush. "Besides, she's six. Maybe even seven, according to what she thinks. She's allowed to act out sometimes."

"I don't know. It's not like her."

"Hm." Fang agreed quietly. I wiped my face with the back of my hand and sighed. We were cleaning out the backyard because we were having dance lessons tomorrow, and the house was too small for all of us to fit. The overgrown grass needed cutting, and we were going to tackle it as soon as we could. Right after we cleared all this crap that was dumped back here.

For the dance lessons we had to learn two dances. The Waltz and the Salsa. Before you ask, no, chips don't come with the Salsa. Which totally blows. The Flock, Gabriella (who was Roberto's sister) and Roberto were the ones taking the lessons. The cousins that are in my Court and aren't coming down yet either know the dance already or are getting lessons at their own home. I don't even know _when_ they're coming down, to tell you the truth.

Like I could handle more cousins. I didn't even tell Fang I was dancing with _Roberto_, for Pete's sake. I swear, if I don't tell him soon I'm going to start having nightmares or stomach ulcers. It's driving me nuts.

"So. Excited for dancing?" I asked nervously.

"Why would I be _excited_?" Fang asked me, narrowly missing a pile of Magnolia's poop that Ella had forgotten to pick up.

"I dunno. I was just wondering."

"Maximum Ride doesn't '_just wonder_'," Fang told me with a suspicious look. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing, calm down." I replied, finding a shovel and handing it to him so Magnolia's mess could be cleaned. The sky was starting to turn pink and the sun was becoming smaller. _Thank God_. "It's just, I thought you'd be excited because you're dancing with Gabriella. One of my cousins."

"What?" Fang deadpanned, the shovel halfway under the heap of doggy doo-doo.

"Really cute. Nice too. Great complexion. You'll love her!" I continued, looking over the lawn and seeing most of all the junk was off of it. And let me tell you, it was no picnic. "Alright, well I guess we're done here. We can mow the grass tomorrow morning, when it's bright out. Bye!" I was almost to the door_ - almost_ - when I felt Fang's heavy, warm hand on my shoulder.

"Max," He growled. "Who are you dancing with if I'm stuck with one of your cousins?"

_Damn. _He was a clever one, I'll give him that.

"Um, well. Grandma picked him for me. Seems nice." I began. Yeah, I can tell that all from a _freaking name_. Just as I thought Fang's eyes couldn't get anymore lethal, my mouth just spat out the name with no warning.

"Roberto, my cousin. He's my escort... and kind of my dance partner."

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**So Fang now knows! And better yet, ROBERTO is introduced in the next chapter. This means trouble!**

**If any of you are wondering what Max's dress looks like :**  
The link is on my profile! Tell me what you think. I also have the picture for the damas up!

**Review, please! **


	4. Chapter 4 : Dance Lessons

**Sorry it's been so long since my last update. Winter break's coming up and all the teachers decided to bring on the tests for the next two weeks, so I haven't gotten the chance to write. But here's the next chapter anyway!**

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Fifteen  
_Chapter Four : Dance Lessons_

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"Max, he has to put his hand on your waist. There's no way around it, that's how you do the waltz."

There I was, standing on freshly cut grass (that Fang woke me up to finish at five in the morning), our dance instructor yelling at me. Everyone else had gotten it down _hours_ ago, while I was still having problems. First, Roberto had to lead me. _No one_ leads me. I'm the leader, and I lead myself. Second, his hand had to rest on my waist. My waist! I met this guy like less than twenty-four hours ago, and he's already touching my lower back? Um, no. I don't think so.

The dance instructor was standing there, hands resting angrily on his hips. His thick, black framed glasses rested on his head, his foot tapping impatiently while I refused to listen to these dumb instructions. His name was Mike, and he was a nice guy. He just was _stupid_ if he thought I'd listen to this crap. I was never one to cooperate, if you didn't know previously.

"Look, I'll put my hands on your upper back." Roberto reasoned.

"That's even worse." I muttered, turning the idea down fast. If he put his hand there, then he'd find out about my wings. Yeah, that'll go over _real_ well.

"Well, you've got to let him put his arm around your waist, Max. You have to. He's your _cousin_." Mike begged, moving over to the CD player and pressing the 'play' button. Sighing, I looked up at the sky and saw it was turning pink. If it was dark and I didn't know the waltz, then I just knew I wouldn't hear the end of it. From Fang, Dr. Martinez, Grandma...

"_Fine_." I hesitantly agreed, Roberto smiling triumphantly as his hand found his way on my lower back. Roberto was nice, though you would never know if he was hispanic. He had _blond_ hair and hazel eyes, his skin a creamy tan color. His father looked nothing like him, except for the shape of his eyes and his nose. He had the spanish side, and was Grandma's prized son. All the rest came from his snob of a mother, who always dressed in expensive clothes and seemed above everyone else. Thankfully, Roberto didn't inherit his personality from his mom, so I didn't have to kill him.

He took my hand and entwined it with his, while I ignored the knot in my stomach as he lead me across the grass.

"Good job! That's it, _he leads_." Mike commented, enthusiasm in his voice.

Roberto counted the step movements aloud while I just followed, surprising myself how I was actually doing it right. The first time? Total mess. I almost tripped Roberto because my feet had minds of their own. After the next couple of tries, I was getting sick of Roberto's hand around me. Not to mention the self-consciousness I felt because we were the only ones who didn't get it down yet. So that's when I had my little, 'I refuse to do this' speech and went inside for a couple hours. Then I was dragged back out here totry it again until I had it down.

When Mike _finally_ turned off the music and applauded, I felt so relieved I almost cheered. I survived my first set of dance lessons.

Go figure.

"I need a drink." Mike said, resting his hand on his head. He looked exhausted and overly stressed. That's what you get when you deal with Maximum Ride!

He walked through the door first, finding his way through the house and announcing his accomplishment. And he had the right to brag, since he taught _me_ how to _dance_. That was an almost impossible task that he just carried out, and I personally give him props.

"You did great." Roberto complimented, grabbing the CD player and bringing it inside. "And I thought you never danced before."

"I didn't." I replied, collecting Mike's papers he left on a fold-out chair. "First time, and I actually didn't kill anyone."

"I'd call it a good day," Roberto agreed, holding the door open for me as I walked inside.

"Thanks." I said as I walked passed him. I'd comment on how he was 'such a gentleman', but that just isn't me. So I'm not going to.

"No problem." He smiled, setting what he had in his hands on the table. "Just wait until tomorrow when we have to do it front of _Grandma_. If we don't get it right, then we're screwed."

* * *

"The boy's room shall further be known as the Hellhole." I declared, kicking a pair of sneakers from underneath the bunk beds.

It seriously was. There was crap everywhere. Dirty shirts piled along the carpet, jeans deposited in the middle of the floor, old towels littering the small bathroom. The once clean and tidy room, a small bed on the left side, a pair of bunk beds on the left, was now in shambles. The beds were completely unmade and the blankets knotted into tiny, filthy balls. And it didn't smell fresh either. More like a Town Dump.

"You know, there's a reason why Angel and Nudge camp out in the living room and I room with Ella." I said to Iggy, Fang and the Gasman. All of which ignored me, picking up dirty clothes and heaving them into laundry baskets. I had been chosen to help, since the dance instructor is now scarred by my stubbornness with dancing. Little did Grandma know that this punishment was _nothing_ compared to being subjected to hundreds of experiments. So I'd deal.

"I'm tellin' you, if I don't get some of that Spanish food I'm going to go insane." The Gasman complained, smelling whatever was cooking in the kitchen. It was mouthwatering. All of us hadn't eaten, and our hunger was growing steadier by the second.

"Yeah, so am I. So keep cleaning." I instructed, taking the pillowcases off and replacing them with clean ones.

"Max and Fang have bathroom duty, I'm out." Iggy said swiftly. He was done with the sheets and already untangled the blankets, letting them sit on the bed neatly. Before I could tell him if he left I'd scrub the toilets with his head, he was gone.

"Gazzy, you better not--"

"Bye!" He raced out of the room after Iggy.

"_Ugh_." I groaned, shoving a sock into the basket. The room was now clean, but the bathroom wasn't. This could take _years_.

After digging out about five pounds of towels and discarded clothes, we could finally see the tile and the counters of the bathroom. I squirted some bleach-substance into the toilet bowl and scrubbed it down until it was pearly white. Fang was washing down the bathtub with something while I moved onto the counters, putting toothbrushes back into the holders and refilling soap dispensers.

By the time we finished, I could probably eat a herd of cows.

"I don't know about you, but I'm starving." I said, surveying the bathroom for anything out of place.

"Dancing and cleaning really takes it out of you." He agreed.

"Yeah. How many times did you step on Gabriella's feet?" I asked humorously. Fang picked up the basket full of dirty clothes and handed the other one to me, walking to the laundry room.

"Not as many times as you tripped." He retorted, earning a hard, joking punch to his shoulder.

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**So you met Roberto. And you'll see Fang's reaction next chapter. It'll be eventful, I'll tell you that much.  
**

**Review Please! **


	5. Chapter 5 : I could kill him

**I'm _so_ sorry that I took so long! Winter vacation just took hold of me... and I just got super lazy. Anyway, here's the next chapter.**

**Random Fact That I Found Out (RFTIFO) :** You know how Iggy's last name is Griffith in the 2nd book? Okay. So I'm looking through my science textbook (chapter test to study for) and I find Fredrick Griffith. He did something that lead to the finding of transformation, something about DNA and stuff. I just found it to be an odd coincidence, don't you think? The whole 'Avian DNA being grafted into their cells' and all. Okay. I'm done with my stupid facts. You can laugh at me later.

**Here's your long awaited chapter!**

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Fifteen  
_Chapter Five : I could kill him..._

(Takes place same day as Chapter Four, Third Person point of view.)

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If dance lessons, having Max being escorted by her cousin, and being partnered with a complete _annoyance_ wasn't enough, Fang, Nudge and Angel had been chosen to receive _cooking lessons_ too. While Nudge and Angel were stirring something in a huge pot on the stove, Fang was being taught how to chop vegetables properly. Not only that, but he had to wear an apron also. And it wasn't just a plain white one either. It had little teddy bears rolling out dough and smiling happily, surrounded by hearts and stars. It had been double-knotted, Angel giving Fang the bambi eyes to keep it on. And some mind control, too.

"When you have a wife of your own, you're going to have to cook for her!" Exclaimed Grandma Martinez, watching Fang's chopping ability with disgust. Fang's face was curled into a scowl, just hoping if his hand _accidentally_ slipped and were to cause an accident involving Max's grandma going to the hospital, someone would understand.

"Mmm! Look it! The stuff is boiling, ooh it looks so yummy! Is it time to add the veggies now? I heard that we have carrots and onions and some other Spanish stuff. It's gonna taste _so_ good. I can't wait!" Nudge babbled, watching over the pot with wide eyes. Angel was carefully assembling the spices in alphabetical order, waiting for Max's grandmother to come over and use them.

While the chopped vegetables were being added to the pot, Fang found himself staring outside the living room window. Sure, it was far away, but with Avian American raptor vision you could pretty much see anything. So, much to his disliking he saw Max being lead across the grass by her cousin Roberto. His jaw clenched and his fingers went rigid for a second before he carefully composed himself. But he couldn't stop his eyes from glaring at the back of Roberto's neck, which was blocking part of Max's face.

He could almost hear the cheers of the dance instructor, muffled by the boiling and loud sound of running water coming from the sink. Fang was kind of surprised Max had lasted this long, considering how she started out in the morning. Tripping over air and almost killing her dance partner, it was an almost solid fact that they'd be leaving by tomorrow. However, Max had to be Miss _I'm-Going-To-Stay-To-My-Word_ and actually go through with it.

For once, Fang was hoping she wouldn't. Though, it was technically his fault. He's the one who came up with the stupid deal in the first place.

"Jorge! Cut these for a fruit salad." Grandma thrust a couple of washed apples, strawberries, blueberries and mangoes to Fang. That was yet _another_ thing about Max's grandmother. She _insisted_ that Fang would have a real name ("Fang sounds like a _dog_ call!") and was testing out several new ones out on him. The one that she stuck with? Jorge. Pronounced HOR-HEY. It made Fang cringe every time he heard it.

"Hm. Jorge. I like it." Gabriella said, coming up behind him. She stole a strawberry off the cutting board and bit off the end. "Ew, tastes like it's rotten. Well, I guess that's what you get here." She said, throwing the rest of it away. "In this charity case you call a home." She finished under her breath.

Gabriella was pretty. Long, brown locks of hair, bright hazel eyes and someone who could look gorgeous even if she was run over a bus, beat with sticks and roasted over an open fire. She was a good dancer, too. She was the whole reason why Fang had gotten through the first dance lesson without any issues. The problem was she had the biggest problem with her attitude. She was rude, mean, and incredibly spoiled. Her mother obviously taught her she was better than everyone else, because both of them matched up perfectly personality wise.

Fang ignored Gabriella's nasty comment, tossing it aside like an unwanted piece of fruit. If Max were here, though... Oh, Gabriella wouldn't even know what was coming.

Speaking of Max, Fang turned his attention back to outside, where they had finished dancing. Mike, the instructor, had come inside muttering something about a huge glass of red wine. While he rustled through the cabinet in search of it, he watched secretively as Roberto mindlessly chatted with Max, made some jokes, held the door open for her... By the end of it, Fang realized the mango he had in his hands transformed into a squishy mound of mushy pulp. Maybe he should've put it down _before_ clenching his fists...

"Hey, Fang. Down here."

Fangs eyes traveled down to the small black dog at his feet. Searching the kitchen, he saw Mike, who was ignoring anyone and everyone until he found that bottle of wine, and only Nudge and Angel preparing the last of the dinner. Dictator grandma was no where to be seen.

"What?" Fang asked through his teeth, cutting the other mango (which wasn't completely destroyed like the other) into thick slices. He threw a piece down at Total.

"I _resent_ that!" Total barked angrily, attracting a bit of attention from Mike, but not much. Fang muttered a quick apology, and the little black dog continued. "That Gabriella girl's a big female dog, if you know what a mean." Fang inwardly smirked at Total's little joke. "But that Roberto guy? He practically killed me! Oh, I've got him this time. Wait 'til he sees his room." Total laughed (how it was possible for a dog to laugh, Fang didn't know) gleefully.

"Someone giving you _dog food_ isn't considered killing you," Fang replied nonchalantly, tossing the cut fruit into the bowl. "And what do you mean, his room? You went all the way to the hotel they're staying at?"

"_Hotel_? You mean they aren't staying here?" Total asked, shocked. Fang could've sworn the dog gulped, but he was too busy walking fast to the guest room.

Fang's expression turned from a tiny speck of panic to absolute dread. The room, which had been pretty neat and tidy for three boys sharing it, now looked like a tornado landed right there, sweeping every possession and tossing it in various places. The bed sheets were tangled, the clothes that were once somewhat organized into dirty clothes baskets were overturned and discarded everywhere. And the carpet even faintly smelled of dog pee.

"Total!" Fang hissed, surveying the room for anymore damage. The bathroom was even worse. Overturned shampoo bottles, towels laying everywhere, the tiled counter top covered in what Fang hoped was toothpaste. He finished looking over the room and was hunting for Total when Dr. Martinez found him.

"Ah! Fang! I was just going to your room to see if you had any extra towels." She said, smiling.

"Oh, you don't want to go in there—"

It was too late. She walked in, her face sparked with sheer horror.

"Valencia! What is it? What's wrong?" Max's grandmother swiftly ran to her daughter, since she had screamed when she saw the mess. Fang winced, knowing if it were any other time, Dr. Martinez wouldn't be so high-strung. Now that she was stressed out with work, planning the party, and being a Mom for seven kids, she was going crazy. "Oh my! Jorge! Get your two brothers. And Max. You all are cleaning this mess _now_!"

Fang groaned to himself, rounding the two troublemakers from the front yard and forcing Max from her spot in front of the television. Glumly he saw Total being fed some of the dinner by Angel. Of course, no one would suspect the talking animal.

_That stupid dog_, He thought, trudging to his room. _I could kill him_.

* * *

**So... I tried. It took me forever to think of something good. Fang's kind of hard to write for, since he doesn't really talk much.  
**Anyway, I hope Total's little raid on the boy's room made sense. I thought it was pretty clever, since I thought of it at 12 am. That's what time it is right now, and I'm desperate to go to bed. Mom took me Christmas shopping again. It's fun the first fifty times, but it's getting to be a chore now. Can't wait to see what things I'm actually going to get...

By the way, Happy Hanukkah to all those out there. I know it kinda ended like a while ago (woops). And happy holidays to everyone else! I don't really have all them memorized. Any who, hope they went great or are _going_ to be great! ;)

Feedback and comments? Send them!

Oh. And if you don't mind...

**Review!**


	6. Chapter 6 : No longer safe

**I haven't been updating a lot lately, and I'm sorry about that. I got one of those Amazon kindles for Christmas, and I've been playing around with it. It's a little thing where you can read e-books on it. And guess what! Maximum Ride Book 1 is free! So if you have one, and didn't know, check it out!  
**

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Fifteen  
_Chapter Six : No longer safe_

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The rest of the week passed by slowly and painfully. Grandma was obsessed with having the Waltz perfect, so we had lessons twice every day. Ten to eleven in the morning, three to five in the afternoon. Mike was off duty until we had to learn the Salsa, which seemed to be far, far away. I was getting blisters on my feet from all the dancing and getting thoroughly sick of it by Saturday.

To add to it, Ella had school this whole week plus therapy for the torn muscle in her knee. Right after school one of her friends would drop her off at the therapy center, and Ella would have to exercise her knee on treadmills and other equipment. She was supervised under special doctors for a good hour and thirty minutes before it ended, and she was allowed to go home.

Except, with all this party planning and work to do, Dr Martinez would forget Ella was there. On Wednesday she was twenty minutes late, Thursday was better, but Friday (which was only yesterday), Ella had to get a ride home from an elderly lady named Miss Simmons. When she was dropped off, Mom didn't even realize her daughter was gone and we had already eaten dinner without her. Needless to say, Ella was pretty angry.

So the Flock and I were left at the Martinez home while Grandma was spending time with Roberto's family and Mom was out to have some mother-daughter time with Ella. Iggy had taken Nudge and the Gasman out flying, Angel staying with me to look through some _quince-rera_ dates. Fang was sitting on the opposite end of the table typing something up on his beloved computer.

"So the cousins in the court come down... the week before the quince?" Angel asked, poking the calender.

"Yeah, though I think someone's coming down sooner..." I mumbled, flipping through the pages of Mom's notepads. She left them on the table, urging me to look through them and make sure I knew them by heart. "No, never mind. They're all coming down the week before. All the other relatives are coming a day or two before my _quince-rera_."

Angel nodded, scrawling this down on sheet of paper.

"Hey! Your birthday, the real actual date of your birth, is on Wednesday!" Angel exclaimed, circling a date in red pen. Fang looked up, showing mild interest, as I pulled the calendar towards me to make sure Angel was reading correctly. And she was right. I saw the little square box with circled in pink Sharpie, with 'Max turns 15!' written in it. I'd be a year older in only a couple days. For some reason, it made my stomach hurt.

I quickly wrote it down on a scrap of paper. Quite pathetic. I was afraid I'd forget my own date of birth.

After sitting around the house for a couple minutes, I was getting bored with all of this. My wings were aching, I could hear the rest of the Flock laughing happily outside, and this was probably the only time in a while that I could fly freely. So after clearing the table, the three of us joined Nudge, Iggy and the Gasman, spending the whole rest of the afternoon outside in the sun.

--

"Hi Mom," I greeted, holding the door open as she shoved a couple shopping bags through the narrow doorway. She had taken Ella to the mall and out to lunch, and it was obvious that they enjoyed themselves. She smiled, handing me a small plastic bag full of sour gummy worms.

"There was a big candy store that we had to try," She explained, pulling small plastic bag out of her jean pocket for herself. "I chose Razzles and jelly beans, but Ella thought you'd like those instead." She gestured to the colorful worm-shaped candies in my hand, then popped a purple jelly bean in her mouth and grinned. Then the phone rang, and she was back to being a busy bee once more.

Shoving a few of the sweets in my mouth, I kept a careful watch on Angel and Fang, who were still flying outside. Neither wanted to stop, so I let them continue for another half hour. That half hour soon turned into a hour, then an hour and a half. I didn't blame them, but still... I was debating whether I should fly up there and get them, or just let them go.

"Jeb, I told you. You have to do it." Mom whispered into the phone. She sounded oddly suspicious. I stood up straighter (instinct), then hid behind the wall and crept closer. Dr Martinez was leaning against the counter, looking frustrated. "Well, look. Either you man up and get over yourself, or you ruin the whole thing we've been planning." I could barely make out Jeb's response, but it loud, as if he were yelling.

"Don't raise your voice at me! Call me back when you made up your mind, and it better be made up before Wednesday." She instructed, looking strained. Jeb said something back, making her hand clench underneath the table. "I swear, Jeb Batchelder, if you disappoint this family one more time... Fine! I will then. When you have some _decency_ and the nerve to stand up to a challenge, then you'll call me back then!" She hung up, taking a deep breath before slamming the phone back on the holder and walking to the living room.

I was crouched on all fours, watching her in awe. What did Jeb 'have to do'? What challenge did he have to rise to? My heart was pounding in my ears, something was telling me to get the heck out of there. I hadn't felt this betrayed since... well, a while. Was my own _mother_ planning to send me back to the School, with Jeb's help? I nearly screamed when Fang and Angel came in through the door and startled me from my hiding place.

"What the heck are you doing?" Fang hissed through his teeth, helping me up to my feet.

I could have easily made up an excuse, because my paranoia was probably getting to me. A possible one could've been: _Oh, I'm just looking for my earring_. Except, I don't wear earrings, or any other type of jewelry. It would've been easy to say I was looking for something, or that I fell, but I just couldn't get my mind to come up with a good enough lie.

"I don't know. But I think we need to get out of here." I whispered back, feeling that this home, which I had relied on so many times, was no longer able to be trusted.

* * *

**So, maybe that was a bit too much. I'm not a big fan of cliffhangers. You probably aren't either!**

**If anyone out there has an idea of what Jeb 'must do', then put it in your review. I, of course, already know, but I'd like to hear your guesses! I wasn't really happy with the beginning of this chapter, but what do you think's going to happen on Max's birthday, on Wednesday? Oh, all the questions...**

**Review!  
**By the way! All of you who put me on story alerts and favorite story lists and _don't review_:  
I can see when you do it! Fanfiction sends me an email. Please review, just this once? _Please_?


	7. Chapter 7 : Jeb

**Here is the next chapter! Sorry for it taking so long!**

**The most-asked question : **Is Fang and Max 'together'?  
**My Answer :** They aren't _officially_. You know in the old books, when they'd kiss but wouldn't be all 'holding hands' and kissing at every moment? Yeah, that's what they are. It's after the fifth book though. If you're confused, PM me and I'll try to explain it better.

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Fifteen  
_Chapter Seven : Jeb_

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I spent half the night packing things into our backpacks. I waited until twelve, which was when Ella finally shut her laptop and went to bed, to get up from the air mattress. I quietly collected all of our stained and torn backpacks from their place hanging in the laundry closet, and when I was finished I prowled the house looking for our scattered belongings.

It was hard to grab all of Angel and Nudge's stuff from the living room, since that's where they were sleeping, but somehow I managed to get every piece of clothing, fashion magazine (Nudge's, of course), and small stuffed animals (Angel's, though I don't know how she got them) without waking either of them up. A big accomplishment with all of our avian sense of hearing.

Around four I was slowly feeling my eyelids drooping, the jumpiness from the idea we could be attacked at any moment slowly declining. I had just finished the boy's room. Iggy had heard me and helped by handing me clothes from the drawers and then promptly falling back to sleep as soon as he was done. With all the other places finished, besides the laundry room where dirty clothes were being washed, I just had the kitchen left.

But I barely remembered anything except reaching for something of Fang's, then sitting down for a minute, thinking that the cushions on the chairs were comfy... I awoke to a blanket and a pillow behind my head plus the sound of the Gasman's obnoxiously loud snoring.

"Morning!" Angel said cheerfully, running into the room and wrapping her long arms around my neck. "Fang and Gazzy found you asleep on the kitchen table, so Fang brought you back in his room. He's making breakfast now with Iggy. Fang said that you worry too much and you shouldn't lose sleep over some phone conversation and... yeah, that's it."

She gave me an innocent and happy smile that I returned. For now, she was the kind, playful Angel that I had known since the E-shaped house. Tomorrow she'd probably be in one of her rebel moods that have started ever since we've come here.

"I'm not a _rebel_," She replied, reading my thoughts. "What does that mean anyway?"

"Nothing." I responded automatically, hearing Dr Martinez's voice in the kitchen. I remembered everything: My suspicions that involved her turning us in, Jeb involved in something important, the fact she was keeping a secret from me...

Angel picked up on all of this, surprise etched on her small face.

"We're leaving?" She squeaked, and I suddenly realized the surprise was really sadness. She didn't want to leave.

This could be a whole lot more difficult than I thought.

* * *

"Max, I need to tell you something."

Those words sent ice water down my spine. My fork held the best bite of my chocolate chip pancake, and now it was frozen in mid-air, while I waited. What was she going to say? '_Oh, I'm sorry to say this, but I'm sending you all back to your doom_'. Yeah, that's perfect. Why would she tell me in the first place? Guilt? She wanted to give me a head start so the Flyboys could have more fun chasing us?

She seemed to be waiting for me to answer her. I didn't, so she just continued on.

"I talked to Jeb yesterday..." She began slowly, twirling her blueberry pancakes around on her plate. My fingers tightened on the fork in my hand. "And I've been trying to convince him for a while, but he still can't come to your quinceañera." My back stiffened like wood in surprise. "Oh Max! I'm so sorry!" She exclaimed, and my fork clattered onto my plate with a loud echo.

"_What_?" The Gasman was the first one to speak, his mouth full of food.

"_Jeb_? Coming to my _quince-rera_?" I asked in disbelief, right after I found my voice through all the shock.

Mom shook her head in her hands, looking up at me with a defeated expression.

"He won't come! He says he doesn't want to miss _work_. Work! He won't even come to see his own daughter's fifteenth birthday celebration!" She exclaimed sadly. I exchanged a small glance with Fang, who was just as astounded as I was.

"So Max won't have a father-daughter dance?" Nudge inquired, looking fairly calm and reasonable.

Wait – _father-daughter dance_? With _Jeb_?

"No, she won't." Mom said tearfully, rubbing her temples and ignoring my widened eyes and abashed expression. "He told me he'd call me back after he spoke to the boss, but there's no saying that he'll just make something up... Oh, hopefully there's some feeling in the soul of his."

"What if I don't want him to come?" I demanded, but no one heard.

"What will Grandma Martinez do when she finds out?" Angel wondered. She was met with various faces of dread and deep mutterings of my grandmother on a murderous rage.

"What if I don't want him to come!?" I said loudly, trying to get their attention. But the cordless phone next to Mom rang, and she glanced at the caller ID.

"It's him!" She said happily, cutting me off. Nudge, Angel and Gazzy went off to the kitchen with her and Iggy decided to collect plates and bring them to the sink. But I knew better– He wanted to hear what Jeb said just as much as the other three did.

So I sat against my chair, swirling the remaining piece of pancake in the maple syrup. It was cold and rock hard now, so there was no point in eating it. My brain was going around in circles, thinking over and over how this could have possibly happened. My fath– I couldn't even bring myself to say that word. 'Father'. I never _had_ a father, Jeb was just a parental figure for a year or two. I'd never, ever call that man my _father_.

"I don't want him to come either." Fang said from beside me. I almost jumped, he had been so quiet I'd forgotten he was even here.

"Welcome to the club. Seems like we packed all those backpacks for nothing." I said, staring at the wall, where a bunch of out backpacks had been cleverly left behind a potted plant, an umbrella holder, the shoe rack and just randomly placed around the door. I sighed.

"By the way, I know this isn't the right time or anything..." Fang started, interrupting my thoughts. "What do you want for your birthday?"

What a question. I forgot the predicament around me while I thought. What did I want for my birthday? My mind drifted back to birthday parties at the old house, which involved a box of cake mix, a mixed CD we shoplifted from a music store from down town, and maybe a new shirt or little hug coupons. But that was the past, simple stuff. I didn't really want anything except for Jeb not to come. That would be the ultimate present.

"Hmm..." I thought aloud. "Maybe next time you find me asleep in the kitchen, you could move me to the bed set up for _me_ in Ella's room instead of yours. This way you don't have to sleep on the floor."

He gave me an exasperated look, and opened his mouth to get my real answer. But he was cut off by the cheers in the kitchen.

Apparently, Jeb had said yes. He was coming to my _quince-rera_ after all.

* * *

**So Jeb's coming down!  
What could happen?**

**And what in the world will Fang get Max for her birthday?**

**Tell me what you think about the chapter!  
Which means you should **review, review, review**!  
And if you review, I'll update faster! Do it! Please?**

** Thanks to all those faithful reviewers so far. You guys rock! **


	8. Chapter 8 : Present Shopping

**All of your reviews made me laugh! So I'm back with an even longer chapter. I have another one ready for tomorrow- it's only 500 words, but still - and it's all to make up for those weeks that went by when I didn't update.**

**This chapter is one of my favorites. Hope it's one of yours too!**

**

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**

Fifteen  
_Chapter Eight: Present Shopping_

* * *

The rest of Sunday was a blur. After Angel and Nudge said Jeb was coming I locked myself in Ella's room. I busied myself with unpacking all the clothes I had folded and squeezed into my backpack. With all that lost sleep over packing and getting out of here, and all the fear and worrying, it turned out to be nothing. I just couldn't believe Jeb was coming to my _quince-rera_, the man I despised and will never forgive. Every time I thought of it, my stomach would clench angrily.

Soon Monday came around the corner. Ella woke up at seven in the morning to get ready for school, which was a challenge with her torn muscle. Often I'd help her with the simple things: Putting her folders and binders away in her backpack, helping her with her crutches. When Mom took over and drove her off to school, it was the tiny moment of peace that I had.

Mainly it was because the rest of the Flock were still sleeping, and the whole rest was because Grandma was with Roberto's family pretty much every day. I was dreading when she would come back with more dance lessons, but Nudge (also known as the goddess of gossip) recalled she heard that we would continue when Jeb came down a week before the _quince-rera_ with all the other cousins. Which meant I had another two weeks of freedom!

I waited for another twenty-five minutes until I heard the engine pull into the driveway. It ceased, and the soft padding of Mom's bedroom slippers could be heard walking towards the door.

"Hey Max." She greeted, pouring herself another cup of hot coffee. Her mug had a picture of a golden retriever on it, with blue lettering that said, 'Thanks For Saving Me!'. I could almost imagine she had donated some money for an animal abuse organization or something. Which was probable, because, you know, she's a vet and all.

"Hi." I said simply, staring at my fingernails against the wood of the table. "What are we doing today?"

I found it funny that two days before I was worried that my mother was going to exploit me, found out I was wrong about it, and now it seemed as if it never happened. Funny how mother and daughter relationships work.

"Well, I wanted you to see where your quince will take place." She said, pulling the sugar bowl towards her and scooping some into the black depths of her cup. "Just so you can get an idea. And then we'll talk to some people and decide how it'll be decorated, talk to the manager. That type of stuff. It'll be an easy day."

But it was not an 'easy day'. Nudge, of course, was destined to come with me, which made it a stress situation already. It didn't end there, though. Iggy and Gasser weren't allowed to be home alone, for cautionary reasons. And why would they be at home? Angel and Fang would be there, right?

Wrong. Fang, the one who decided to spill his daily plans at the last possible minute, was going into town with Angel that afternoon. So not only was I attending Nudge's All-You-Can-Talk festival, but I was going to have to watch over the two pyros and make sure they didn't kill themselves or blow each other up.

So, mother was wrong. Today was not an easy day. There is never an easy day.

* * *

"So what do you want to get her?" Angel asked, skipping alongside Fang on the sidewalk.

They were browsing. Fang had found some money left over in the backpacks and it should last to get Max something. He had thirty-seven dollars, and was determined not to travel the easy way out and go to the dollar store. Instead, he was going to do it the hard way and find something unique in a boutique or small store. Or so he planned.

But shopping wasn't as easy as it sounded. In the movies, the boy looks into a jewelry window and sees a necklace. The necklace, somehow out of luck, has a symbol of their life together and the boy gives to the girl, who bursts into tears and 'loves' it. However, where ever Fang looked he saw tacky shirts and stupid keychains, too-large necklaces and bulky earrings.

Angel was coping, silently following him and pointing various things out. But none of them seemed to do anything for him. None of them said 'Max' or made him say, 'Oh, she'll _love_ that'. Max was especially hard to shop for.

"Maybe you should get her a pen." Angel suggested sarcastically, after the third small store. "Or a pair of nail clippers. She could use those."

Fang stared down at the child. She was not the same innocent little girl she used to me. Never had he heard Angel be sarcastic like that before. Did this come with being seven years old? Was this normal? All he remembered from when he was seven was pain and horror. He understood why Max was worried– neither of them knew what to do with this new Angel.

He paused outside the forth shop. Maybe he should just give up.

But the young, true-to-her-word Angel was still there, and directed Fang into the shop without a second thought.

"I promised I'd help," She explained, walking over to a small display of jewelry. "I'm like Max– I try to keep my promises."

Fang smiled slightly as he walked to the back, feeling the shop owner's stare glued to his back. He shifted through the small things, like little salt and pepper shakers and small bracelet charms. He almost settled for a bracelet that had small gems on it in a small pattern, but it was forty dollars and Max didn't like bracelets. She wasn't like all those other girls.

Just as he was going to give up, he spied something in the clearance section. It was a sign advertising ring engraving. The small, thin ring band was five dollars plus twenty for the engraving. The ring had been reduced to three dollars and fifty cents, since it was getting close to the holidays. He picked it up and walked to the counter.

"Can I get this engraved?" He asked kindly, holding it out. It was like a metal band, about a half an inch thick. He could squeeze it and mold it into a small ball, that's how weak the metal was, but it would do.

"For a girlfriend?" The woman asked, taking the ring out of his hand roughly.

"Sort of."

"This thing won't last for her," She said gruffly, throwing it down on the counter. "I've been watching you. You're looking for the perfect gift for her. She must be special."

Angel joined Fang at the counter, and nodded.

"They've been best friends since they were born." She explained, while Fang just shrugged awkwardly.

"Tell you what. There's a bunch of colored and sturdy rings in the back. There's one that might work for her. I'll give it to you for the same price as this piece of crap," She pointed to the band she had thrown next to him. "I'll go get it, you fill out this piece of paper about what you want it to say."

Fang gave her a grateful smile, took the scrap of paper and a pencil, and started to think. Angel pulled herself to sit on the counter, also thinking, wondering what he could say that would mean something important.

"This is hard." Fang muttered after a minute, concentrating. "I can't say 'Happy 15th', that's too specific. I can't say 'We're like milk and cookie' or any of that bogus. And I'm not going to write that she's the 'love of my life'." He said, erasing off Angel's hopeful look. "I just need something that matters..."

The woman had come back now, and handed Fang the ring to look at it. It was blue and red, and where both colors met in the middle there was a thin, purple line. Now, if he could think of what would be engraved on it...

"No luck?" She asked, and he gave a small nod.

Fang thought hard. He flashed back to a lot of things. Anne's house, the time they split up, when Max was cutting out the chip... Angel was reading and reliving all of these thoughts with him, in an attempt to help. Finally she stopped, completely stumped, and went back into the clearance section. Fang began to doodle on the paper, drawing small stick figures. Then it came to him. Probably the most easiest thing, simplest thing, and the words that Max would gladly wear on her finger.

"Nice job, kid." She said, reading the slip of paper and walking into the back to engrave it.

When she came back, Angel was holding a small little box with an outline of a lion on it. The box was really small, about the size of two of Fang's fingers, but Angel thought it would be nice to hold Max's ring. They checked out, Fang with twelve dollars to spare.

It wasn't until he pulled out the receipt and saw the woman had given him a discount– 20 percent off. He would've dwelled on it, thought about how nice it was for the woman to do that, but he was too distracted.

He could almost see Max's face when she opened her present. Hopefully she'll like it as much as he imagined.

* * *

**Max's birthday is next chapter!**

**By the way, so I don't get a million questions, Max's grandmother is staying at the hotel with Roberto's family. That's why she's always with them, and only at Dr Martinez's home when Roberto's there. Just to clear all that stuff up!**

**So let's try to get to 110 reviews? I mean, if you would review.  
Wait, let me rephrase that:**

**PLEASE REVIEW! So we can get to 110!  
Thanks everyone. :) **


	9. Chapter 9 : The Almost 15 year old

**Yeah, I know... I don't update enough. So, to make up for it, I added more than this chapter originally was (it was only 500 words before). Does that make up for it? :)**

**This chapter's day of the week: The rest of Monday afternoon and Tuesday.**

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Fifteen  
_Chapter Nine : The Almost 15 year-old_

* * *

The hotel ballroom was big. The salesman was nice. The windows were pretty. The decorator's teeth were bleached too white. There was a balcony that overlooked the pool. Mom talked a lot.

That's basically all I picked up when we arrived. I wasn't paying too much attention, because I had to keep my eye on the two bomb makers.

Iggy and Gazzy were debating on what explosive plan to use. Iggy had is sketchpad out, and was flipping through a couple things, while Gazzy shook his head at them all. While I was drowning out voices and trying to make out what the two members of the Flock were saying, somehow they came up with an agreement and were planning how to make it.

"We could use the old toaster in the garage." Iggy said, barely above a whisper.

"But that won't have a strong effect! I want to make a big boomer!" The Gasman said happily, flipping back through the drawings. "We could try to use that old blender _and_ the old toaster. That would do it."

"Good plan, good plan. I'll make some drawings. What should we call it? It has to have an awesome name."

If only I could turn around and give them a hard glare. But I couldn't. The decorator, Bill, was exaggerating on what we could do with the ceiling and how we could take some spare couches, cover them in purple fabric, and make a nice sitting room next to the dance floor. Nudge was in her element. She wanted a purple carpet (a twist on Hollywood's cliché of a red carpet, she explained), and wanted the dance floor to be spectacular. Flashing lights and a pull out stage with pictures of me and my court everywhere.

If she didn't make it as a designer, she could be an interior decorator. Or a party planner. Gosh, Nudge could be a lot of things.

"Alright, so I'm writing all this down..." Bill said happily, and was actually writing it all down. Nudge was explaining each thing in detail, and he was soaking it in. "Her theme is purple. We'll have tables on the right of the dance floor next to the buffet. The teens," which were Ella's friends who had been invited to her party (which had been canceled because of her knee) and transferred to mine, "will be separated from the adults by a divider. The dance floor will be exactly how you explained it." He smiled at Nudge, who gave her approval, and shook Mom's hand.

"It was a pleasure working with you. I'll fax the sketches sometime this week." He gave one of his blinding smiles again, and was gone. He was the final person who had to talk to us. We had organized the menu with the caterer, talked to the ballroom supervisor, and even made sure our reservation was secure.

So, if you could picture all that, you'd know we had been here for a while.

Iggy and the Gasman had now moved to the end of the room. They had their backs towards me, were whispering excitedly and drawing in the sketchbook with careful planning. I would've made my move now, put them back in line, but my head was spinning. I had only gotten in one word since we got here, and it was 'Hi'. Not even my name, Nudge had taken care of that.

Why did I bother to come anyway? It didn't seem to matter much, did it?

Ha. Like I could've gotten out of this. I crack myself up just thinking about it. Yeah, who cares if the girl having the party doesn't say anything, doesn't care, and all the decisions are being made for her? She has to be there anyway! Since, you know, it's her party and all. Even though she has no say in it whatsoever. These party things make no sense to me.

I was then sucked out of my momentary thinking when I heard Gazzy.

"At this rate we can build it and test it tomorrow!"

I didn't think so.

* * *

That afternoon was a normal afternoon. Iggy and the Gasman were banned from the garage (courtesy of yours truly), Mom went off to bake her fabulous cookies and then went to pick up Ella from her muscle therapy, Nudge and Angel dreamed up different plans for my _quince-rera_, and Fang... well, he was just being Fang. No better way to describe it.

So I was extremely surprised to wake up on Tuesday morning to realize that this was my last day of being fourteen years old. Tomorrow would be my birthday. Officially. Not a fake date made up or date that I felt like choosing because I forgot the one that I went with last year. It would seriously be my date of actual birth.

Boy did it make me feel weird.

I went with the usual routine– helping Ella up and handing her the crutches. Then Mom came in, helped her to the kitchen, made her breakfast and then drove her to school. When I heard the car pull out of the driveway it meant I was allowed to go back to sleep. Or at least lay down because I was too busy thinking to even close my eyes. So I sat there for a good twenty minutes, mind whirling.

"Mornin' almost-oldie." Iggy said sleepily from the hallway, waking me out of my trance. I could hear him walk into the kitchen, shuffle through the pots and pans and turn the stove on. Iggy's breakfasts were always a great pick-me-up.

The rest of the Flock were waking up. It was always like this– early some days, the rest they woke up late. Personally, I think it's Ig's cooking. Just the smell of his scrambled eggs makes anyone want to get up from their slumber. Even Nudge, and that's saying something.

So somehow I got myself out of bed, dressed, and managed to shovel down a couple batches of scrambled eggs. At the table, the girls were rambling, just like every morning, the Gasman and Fang had been assigned dish duty, Iggy was still eating, and Mom was picking at her food while trying to find a number in the phone book.

But I, like always when faced with something big, wasn't focusing too well.

Mostly because I was going to be fifteen tomorrow. Fifteen!

* * *

**Next Chapter :  
What will Fang's ring say?  
What is Dr Martinez going to do for Max's birthday?  
**

**It will all be answered!**

**If you want the next chapter, **REVIEW**.  
Thanks! **


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